Perseverance
by J.Rease
Summary: "Through it all she smiles. Rachel Berry's drive is the only thing he can respect about her. She never quit. And she never let anything get her down." Mature Themes
1. Drive

Title: Perseverance

Author: J. Rease

Disclaimer: I just play with them and put them back.

Rating: M/NC-17

Spoilers: It's current up until Laryngitis, but then detours before Rachel gets her mother's tape.

Summary: Through it all she smiles. Rachel Berry's drive is the only thing he can respect about her. She never quit. What happens when Noah and Rachel save each other? Mature Themes.

Warnings: Deals with abuse, Non-Con and violence. Please respect my creative attempt and not flame. R&R!

She stands. Her white sweater drenched down the valley of her chest; blue slushie staining and dripping all the way down to the waist-band of her plaid, pleated skirt. Her eyes were still shut tight, eyelashes heavy with crystallized juice drink as she swiped away the offense. She rubs it from her face, slams her locker closed (it was never a useful shield) and trots off defiantly to the girls bathroom, her face frozen from the cold; numb from the shock.

She hates when people shout her name. Her mind fools itself into thinking someone would ever call her without malice. But as reflect kicks in, she swirls her chocolate hair in a spin turning right into water balloons breaking in her line of sight. Wet again. She usually never has to change twice; they usually gave her that courtesy. But she today she dries slowly, getting shivers up her spine as she walks around wet, hating how her faint strawberry perfume smells now, drying along with her wet clothes— musky as school finally ends.

By the end of the day, she usually goes home thinking of the insults written on her locker. They only vandalize her locker. And then she thinks of how she will probably have to paint over them herself. Or see if the nail polish remover will remove the permanent marker. She sometimes wants to put a dry erase board on it, let them vocalize their hate for her in an easier to manage stain. Today it says "MAN FREAK". She wonders what tomorrows insult will be. She honestly wonders when they will get tired of breaking her spirit …and if that day will come soon.

She wonders when she'll look forward to night times with her father, well, night times with Alan. Her Daddy was away on business (that was becoming too often), and Alan had started to resent her, their lives; their lifestyles. She doesn't know why he stays. But she assumes that he has no security for himself. He needs them both to keep their facade; their reputations. And so they sit. It sounds easy enough, but there used to be laughter in their lives. Love in their family. There used to be pride. She never knew when it left. But Alan started talking about his _Jonah_ going off on business trips to be with other men. He'd turn to her in their dark living room and unload all of the secrets he knew about Daddy, and how much he wants to leave him.

The first time Alan hit her, he busted her lip. She'd caught him flirting with the bookstore cashier, his hand dipping up her skirt and she twirled her auburn hair in fingertip-sized ringlets. And Rachel gasped when she saw them kiss. Her homosexual father was puckering his lips for a woman, in broad daylight. It was her freshman year of high school. Alan took her arm and ushered her back to the car. Pushing her into her seat, he got into the drivers side and buckled his seat belt. His breathing labored, measured, furious. She didn't know what to do. And the shock of the back of his hand meeting her face was more paralyzing than any slushie facial could ever be. And she recoiled, biting down on her bottom lip so hard when her neck snapped back that she left teeth marks. She didn't cry. She wiped away the blood and nodded when he coddled and apologized to her. And when they parked in the garage he unbuckled his safety belt and leaned over to kiss her. And he trailed those kisses all the way up to her temple. And Alan asked her not to tell her Daddy, because he would never, ever forgive him. And she never did.

She hates that she needs to be touched. She needs to engage in random acts of intimacy. It's the only thing that can explain why she aches to kiss the boys who only agree to kiss her in private, away from prying judgments and distant from their ever-pressing reputations. Boys like Finn who kissed her (her first kiss) and told her to never tell anyone. Like Noah, who only kissed her in indifference, bored with practice and aroused they kissed for a while, ending only when he tried to reach under her shirt. She'd wanted him to go further. But if he did he'd see the bruises on her back, her stomach. So she stopped him. Like Jesse. She just knew she couldn't trust him. But she stays. He shows her love. Though superficial it's that happy kind of romance that teenagers engage in. The only time she gets to be that bubbly person she pretends to be, because someone is there to listen, even if their motives aren't as clear as they should be. She gets to have that, she needs to. It was the only part of her life she looked forward to. She still did even when her glee-mates pegged him suspicious.

They don't know that she'd rather let him break her heart. Because that's the only time she gets the affection. The only time she gets to feel connection to another human being that she lacks with everyone who currently torments her life. The insults, the pranks, the jokes all somehow entertain most of her peers. The ones who shake their heads in ignorance, and duck behind open locker doors and excuses are just as guilty. And she never tells their secrets. She never convicts them of their small sins…because it would cause so much more of all the torment.

And through it all she keeps her head up. Because Daddy didn't raise her to not be proud. She set her camera up every day, to practice, to showcase. She sung to her Myspace page like it was the audience listening with open ears, empathetic to the raw emotion that poured through every single number. And for every ten insults there would be a fan. A simple "Cool" could brighten her day. And she could wish away all the small little things people did to her, or prejudged about her. And she'd wake up every day knowing that one day she'd make it away from it all. She needed to get far away from all the suffering. She knew one day she'd persevere.

She was off putting to everyone. So vocal about her opinion that everyone collectively ignored everything she would ever have to say. She had to believe in herself because she had no one else who would. So when they told to her "No.", she'd make a way. And when they told her she didn't matter, she'd only try harder. She needed as much motivation from herself that she could muster; because everyone else was too busy muting her voice otherwise. Through it all; she smiles.

SCHOOL.

"Rachel!"

She snapped her head in the direction her name came from, wincing and tensing only momentarily when she realized someone actually needed her. Brittany bounced up to Rachel alone, tugging on her arm and urging her to walk the halls, elbows linked.

"I need a favor."

Rachel furrowed her brows, confusion asking more questions than her words could, so Brittany continued.

"I need a song to sing for Glee this week."

"Brittany it's a song about your favorite thing to do, I can't pick a song for you."

"Well I don't know any songs about what I like to do. And I didn't want to go read or like, use a computer to search for stuff—those things never work when I use them. So, I thought I'd ask you, since you were all knowledgeable about that stuff."

"Well, Brittany, what do you like to do?"

"I like to…"

Rachel waited.

"Um."

Rachel nodded and urged her on.

"I like to have sex."

"Well I don't think Mr. Schue would want to know that."

"Well…um. I like to dance."

"Well, try Dancing Queen-"

Brittany left before Rachel could finish her sentence. And the rest of her day was a blur.

She got home to a note from Daddy.

_Had to catch a late flight. Will be back in a few days, Starshine, Alan will be home with dinner—Daddy. _

Her heart dropped. She hadn't seen her Daddy in days. And she didn't know what kind of mood Alan would come home in. So she went to her room and started her homework. She periodically checked her phone. Usually the only messages in her inbox were alerts from theatrical release sites and motivational mantras that sporadically brightened her everyday routine. She heard the door slam shut when she closed her math textbook. She straightened her skirt and went to address her father.

Alan Berry was no small man. His tall lengthiness was overwhelming. His chocolate skin was smooth and clear. His soulful brown eyes were dominant on his distinguished brow. He was a gorgeous man. But tonight he was terrifying.

"RACHEL!"

His scream seemed to shake the pictures hanging on the walls as she trotted down the stairs.

"Hi Alan."

"You left your car in the driveway AGAIN, Rachel"

And he pummeled her. He pushed her backwards and kneaded his frustration into her stomach; her back, her side. And he walked into the other room, sat in his recliner, and turned on the television set.

When she finally pulled herself together, she got in her car and drove to Temple. She never thought she'd fine Noah Puckerman there.

End of Chapter One.


	2. Motivation

Author's Notes: I appreciate all those who read and reviewed, added to alerts and favorited this story. I haven't written in a while so I feel like I still have training wheels. I apologize for any grammatical errors in the first chapter, and for any in this one. I am typing these up quicker than I can edit them, and after work I'm pretty rundown. The next chapter is a bit long. Still AU (especially since tonight's episode aired, WOW), so hopefully things pull together nicely. I make Jewish references, and I hope they are obvious without being amateur. Feedback is encouraged. Enjoy.

"Shalom."

He sat.

"Shalom."

She sat.

She sat down on the women's side of the Synagogue to think. Front row, just as he had on the opposite side of the Temple. She could only see the top of his Mohawk over the Mecitzah, the curtain securely in place to separate the sexes. It was empty this time of the night. They, along with the caretaker, were the only ones present. She didn't know why she came to Temple; the sanctuary seemed to be the only place she could think of—the only place she was ever openly invited to. She visited Temple every Sunday with Daddy, whenever he was home. Alan tried to take her to his normally boisterous Baptist Church every third Sunday (when she was menstruating), but she'd come to see the Temple as her primary place of worship. She rubbed at her aching sides mindlessly, trying her best not to flinch as she un-tucked her button down shirt from her skirt. She didn't want to go back home, but she had nowhere else to go.

"Break a commandment, Berry?"

He was leaning over her, where she sat, and she instantly tensed. Jostled, she stuttered a reply.

"N-No. I just needed somewhere to think…"

"About what? Who's life you're going to annoy with your obnoxious rants?"

He sat down beside her; on the women's side.

She looked forward, ignoring him strong-willingly.

"Wonder what flavor slushie they're going to throw on you tomorrow, Berry? It's kiwi; and right after lunch…"

He was inches away from her ear.

"Not now Noah…"

The defeat in her voice nearly broke his smirk to pieces.

She sat there. Quiet. Thinking.

She had known Noah Puckerman since she was eleven years old. Well she had known of him since then. She'd be invited to his Bar Miztvah when his mother, Janice, had met her Daddy at Temple. Noah, aside from his promiscuous trysts, was an outstanding Jew. He loved his mother above all else, and did everything he could to make her happy; especially after his father left. She knew who Noah Puckerman was outside of McKinely High, and he was more than slushie facials and practical jokes; just not publically to Rachel.

"Hey my bad, Berry. What's up?"

"Nothing, I'm just stressed out." She lied, only partially.

"Is it those hockey jerks? Need me to bash some skulls? Is it that Jesse kid? I told you he was scum." He balled his fists against his bended knees.

"You'd defend my honor Noah Puckerman?" She was suddenly beaming.

"Your honor? You mean my ass! My mother would kill me if she found out I was letting a fellow Jew get harassed at school."

Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Hey," he pointed his finger sideways at her, "I make sure they don't go too far."

She quirked the corner of her mouth in acknowledgement.

"No…it's not them." She sighed.

"And Jesse's gone. He deflected back to vocal adrenaline. He said he was going through emotional strife being with me knowing he let his team down. He said it was time for him to concentrate on his career."

"Oh." He mouthed not so surprisingly.

"So what's bothering you?"

He was smiling at her with that cocky smirk that he always had. That smirk that said he could handle exactly anything she had to throw at him, and he'd handle it well. She shook her head to clear her mind.

"I just get lonely sometimes. People shut me off before I even get a chance. I'm tired of pretending that everything's okay with how things are. I just want to be loved. Accepted. Wanted."

He was staring at her…seemingly speechless.

"You're wanted—"

"I'm tolerated. You guys keep me around because I carry the team. People want to hate me before they get to know me and stay stubborn with their first impressions."

He sighed.

"Your fathers love you. You have your family—"

"Yea when Daddy's home. But we're broken when he's gone…"

"You're not alone. Rachel."

"Why are you here, Noah?"

"To pray."

"For?" She furrowed her brow.

"I'm praying to be a better Jew, for my mom."

She nodded in agreement.

He smiled.

He leaned over, elbowing her in the ribs jokingly, noticing the wince she lets out when he retreats.

He leaned over to make a joke, elbowing her teasingly in her ribs, rubbing one of the bruises she was sure had turned purple by now.

"I have to go."

She stands quickly. So abruptly that Noah noticed the change in atmosphere. The tension. The distance.

She rushes to her car. She knows that he is following her, stopping only when he is bending over beside her rolled up window.

"What did you come here to think about, Berry? Seriously?"

She rolled down her window, smiling gingerly; smiling through her teeth.

"Nothing, Puck. Nothing."

And he let her pull out of the parking lot. He would get to the bottom of Rachel Berry. And for once, there was no sexual innuendo implied.

HOME

She got home near midnight, after driving to the 24- hour pharmacy for balm to put on her knuckle-sized bruises. She walked into a quiet, seemingly empty house. Making her way to her bathroom, she showered and wrapped her abdomen and iced her upper arms before turning in. She slept for only an hour before she heard the front door opening, their giggling wafting up to her open bedroom door like a pungent stench. Groggily, she stepped into her slippers and wandered down the steps, calling her father's name before coming to the final landing. She'd interrupted. Their tangled bodies scrambled to unravel themselves as she instantly turned around, racing up the stairs, ignoring the stinging in her ribs and back as she ran "_How would she dance for Glee tomorrow?,_ she thought.

She heard them part ways—prematurely—and waited while she listened to her father's heavy hooves moving up the stairs.

"I didn't see anything, I promise!" She said instantly, shaking her head erratically, afraid of what he might do next.

His fists were balled up at his sides. He smelled like liquor and cheap perfume.

"I'm so tired, Ray! You can't let me have _anything_! " He was quiet.

She was terrified.

"I'm tired of being the gay man who's getting cheated on! He took everything from me, Ray! I can't keep letting him take away everything! There's almost nothing left but hate!" He was irate. He'd lost his control.

"Ray, we used to be in love. And you took away all of it. He saw you and he knew he couldn't be with me anymore. He saw you and he fell in love with you. I'm tired of you taking so much." He was sobbing; she sat still on the bed still looking at her father, this man, broken in front of her. She didn't know if she should stay or run before he over-reacted, before he lashed out at her; before he went too far…

"I can only love you with enough heart that your Daddy has left me…"

And then, he took off his belt.

She never hurt as much as she did that night. There used to be so much love in their house. She grew up in a loving household even without a mother, but somewhere along the line they disconnected. She had three rough, angry welts on her back. Two from the strap and one from the buckle; that one was swollen to the touch and blistered. The others came fast on her side and she crawled into the fetal position when she couldn't run away. She cowered. The sting of his strikes didn't hurt as much as her feelings did. He cried when he hit her, screaming just as much as she had until she had nothing left in her lungs to breathe with. It was agony for him. He resented her so much. She needed her Daddy. He would kiss away her scars and make everything alright. He brought her water when he'd composed himself. He rubbed aloe on her back and cried as he whispered "I'm sorry" into her hair. They rocked until he fell asleep behind her. She realized for the first time that night that her father hated himself. His burning self hatred toward his identity had killed every sparkle she'd ever see in her family. They used to be happy. She used to be loved. She would never let herself get to that point. She would never fail herself. She'd make sure she'd persist.

SCHOOL.

Rachel Berry had been absent that following Tuesday and Wednesday. No one answered their door when he went over to see her, and she never returned the phone calls when he did call her. Noah was worried. It was Thursday. He'd hope she'd be back today, at least to show up for Glee. He needed to know that she was okay. He'd known Monday night that he shouldn't have let her leave. He didn't want to jump the broom. He'd gone through the jocks who would hit a girl, and none of them fit the bill of a girl-beater-

Badass or not, Noah Puckerman never condoned hitting a girl.

_Condoned? I've been around Rachel too long._

He sighed.

He missed her voice.

The way she'd chime into conversations that no one invited her to. He missed the way she said things that went against the grain. He loved the way she was so…herself all of the time. He admired her. He pined for her. Ever since their small week-long relationship, he felt lost. Most girls hadn't caught his eye intellectually. He distanced himself with the flighty girls he dated. He talked about all the things they didn't want to hear about so he could get rid of them faster. Their company never mattered. He wanted someone who he could debate with, someone to challenge him. He wanted someone worthwhile. Someone like Rachel Berry.

He missed her smile. How she always frowned when they all took little hits at her, insulting her backhandedly—without reason. He hated to see that face. But followed by it would be that resolve. That Drive. That something she had that kept her going, because one day—she would be where she wanted to be, and they'd all remember the person she had to endure to become the person she wanted to be later.

He scouted the lunchroom, and as soon as his eyes crossed her path, he focused. He knew instantly then that something was wrong. She was smiling, greeting people in Glee through her plastic smile, crying behind her big brown eyes. He was nervous to approach her. He knew as soon as she had glanced over figure that someone was hurting Rachel; that someone had hurt _his_ Rachel.

She was wearing jeans.

And sneakers.

Someone would die for hurting her.

He crossed the room, faster than his ego could allow him to—and he stopped directly in front of her.

"I need your help."

End of Chapter Two.

R&R


	3. Determination

Author's Notes: Wow! Thank you to all those who reviewed, it certainly urges me to write a little more often when people are waiting for chapters! I'm trying to update within reason, and hopefully this chapter holds you guys over in the meantime. Enjoy.

MORNING

She couldn't recall falling asleep the night before; nor could she recall her father's departure from her bed or her settling into sleep on her stomach to ease the sting that the welts left. Nevertheless, she was waking to the whispering sounds of her Daddy's voice.

"Starshine wake up, it's noon." He laid the flat of his hand on the small of her back, rocking her from side to side; unintentionally rubbing her still aching skin.

"Owww…" She groaned, rolling on her side, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Your father told me what happened…" She grimaced, blinked.

"He did?" _Alan confessed_? She was confused…maybe she was dreaming. She shook her head to clear her thoughts.

"He told me you fell down the cellar stairs."

The cellar stairs _were_ treacherous. Most of her old costumes were down there, she'd slipped down the modern staircase before. _Good cover_, she thought.

"You sure you don't want to head to the doctor?"

"No Daddy, I'll be fine."

She sighed. She hated seeing him so worried; she wanted to say something so badly, but she didn't think she could face that fight just yet. The internal battle waging within her was telling her to say something; that Alan had gone too far, and she was starting to think that this would be happening more. She wasn't sure she wanted to break her Daddy's heart quite yet. She didn't think she was prepared for the aftermath of tearing her family apart. Where would she be then?

"Ray! Lunch is ready!"

Alan yelled from the bottom of the landing. She heard him rattling up the steps when he didn't hear her answer back. He seemed to be still apologizing for the beating he'd given her the night before by making her breakfast. He looked sincerely surprised to see Daddy sitting on the bed next to her.

"Jonah! I didn't know you got home! Didn't even hear the door! You upgraded your flight?"

"Well of course I did! I didn't have anything to do, we settled the accounts last night- and when you called me this morning, honestly that was an ungodly hour, Alan; to tell me that Ray fell down the steps…I had to come home."

She watched her father tilt his head, putting down the breakfast tray on Rachel's armoire and walking over to her Daddy, kissing him hello.

"I would have fared well, Jonah. She's in good hands."

Her Daddy smiled.

"Well, Alan, I'm home. And I'm home with a full day off. How about we go see a show? Since we're all here? Ray you up for it?"

She shook her head enthusiastically. She got up slowly, stealing a piece of toast from the breakfast tray on the corner of her armoire. She ran a bath, lined the bottom with the Epsom salt that was underneath her bathroom sink. Her stiffness was agony, but she managed to dress and apply the balm to her back by spreading it on a towel and leaning backward on her bed. She'd be sore for a while, she frowned.

They went to see a local Shakespearian troupe for the matinee, and went for dinner afterwards at one of her favorite salad bars. Her Daddy had convinced her to let Dr. Goldberg look over her back, and she'd convinced him that she fell down the metal plated modern staircase to the basement. They'd been in his private home office as he looked over injuries. Most of the welts were superficial. They'd go down as and the swelling would subside. He'd applied ointment to the scar the buckle made and bandaged it, giving her instruction on how to let it breath and when to cover it. She claimed she fell and hit the corner step on the bottom. He didn't pry, but told her to be more careful. They stayed for coffee and headed home.

She had enjoyed **that** day, settling in watching _The Way we Were_ with her fathers. This was what she needed, her sanity. She needed her family; her foundation. She sat between them, her head lolling on her Daddy's shoulder. Alan had picked her up then, carrying her to bed and sitting down next to her after she'd settled in.

"You know I didn't mean it, right Ray?"

She shook her head in the affirmative, her eyes heavy. Lids drooping as he continued to speak. He was playing in her hair, twirling the dark strands between his nutmeg colored fingertips.

"I don't mean to hurt you…sometimes it just happens."

He kissed her forehead. Her eyes were closing.

"Sometimes you just _do_ things…and I get—I get carried away, Ray and I can't control myself. You know I love you, right? You know your Poppa loves you….don't you?"

She shook her head again. He tucked her hair behind her ears. He kissed her cheek.

"And you know that sometimes I can't control it. That I can't hold back."

Her head barely moved. She tried to nod again it but her eyes were so lazy. She was drifting now, faintly hearing what he was telling her. He was rubbing her shoulder. He rubbed all the way down the length of her, stopping at her ankles, and back up to her collarbone. It was so soothing.

"Just don't tell Daddy. Don't tell Daddy and everything will stay this way. You had a good day today. Right?"

She found her voice.

"Yes, Poppa."

_He never lets her call him Poppa anymore…He used to. Usually when he needed her do something, when he needed her to fix them. _

"Promise you won't tell Daddy?"

His hands were roaming her side, rubbing the friction of his palm into her tired back. He kissed her neck..

"Promise."

"And Berry's never break promises right?"

Well…she never broke the promises that she made to him.

"Right."

He pulled her blanket up to her neck, kissing her faintly on her lips before leaving her room. Rachel drifted off to sleep then. Silently hoping it would stay that way.

WEDNESDAY

The following day she decided to stay home. She was still sore and slow moving, and decided ducking slushie facials and getting knocked into lockers would not be good for her tortured body. Her Daddy worked from his office, his corporate accounting job allowing him the flexibility of working from anywhere. He took the job with FOX when they gave him the option to live away from headquarters. He and Alan had settled in Lima, the perfect town to raise a child. It was a place where you could leave your doors unlocked and the keys in the ignition; well that's what it used to be. They found her mother here and they started their family. Alan was a Director of Communications at OSU at Lima. They'd both made a home in Lima.

Rachel thought about her father, putting her skullcandy headphones on as she remembered him during better times. Alan had been a dancer, wild and popular he danced for the Alvin Ailey dance company during the late eighties. He met her Daddy when he was accounting for the corporation, they fell in love and Alan quit soon after when he shattered his knee during a show. He'd wanted to stay and teach, but her Daddy had been relocated soon after and they'd left New York together.

Her Daddy had once said that he'd give up anything for Alan, that he'd do anything to make him happy. They once were. With Daddy gone most of the time, Alan stayed behind, wondering about all the other men her Daddy would probably be around, and all the temptation he'd have baiting him. That's when everything changed. Alan needed an excuse, any excuse to scapegoat her. He materialized his lost passions with the birth of their daughter, Rachel Miriam Berry. They had been close, once. He took her to dance classes, singing lessons, piano and jazz. She was involved in so much, an overachiever. Then it stopped. When she was old enough, she began to go to most of her classes alone; only seeing her fathers when she had recitals and plays.

There was a knock on her door.

"Star shine, I'm going to the grocery store. I'll be back soon."

"Okay, Daddy."

She turned her iPod up to full volume, listening to classical music she usually listened to when she needed to think.

She never heard the front door.

THURSDAY

She stood in front of her closet the following morning, looking for the baggiest clothing she owned. All of her skirts rubbed aggressively against her bruises, so she'd decided that she would have to wear something loose fitting to school. She owned less than a dozen pairs of jeans. But there was one pair with a soft elastic band that wouldn't rub too much against her lower back. She ironed them, and pulled out a thin cotton turtle neck to cover any other blemishes that hadn't yet faded. The sneakers were an afterthought, deciding heels of any kind would be a mistake later in the day. They were the only pair she owned, other than the black and white Chuck Taylors she wore when she performed. She pulled the pink and gray cross trainers on over normal white sweat socks, and headed off to her car.

School was normal, no one had bothered to slushie her before noon, and she was grateful. She rarely missed school, so she stayed after most of her classes to get assignments that she'd missed since Monday. Everything went swimmingly until lunch, when she found herself in the Glee choir room with Noah, after he'd pulled her away from her ever questioning glee mates.

"What? What do you need?"

"Math, I'm flunking."

She interrupted.

"Well of course it's math, you haven't been in two years! How do you expect to catch up if you never go? You need to start taking these things seriously, Noah, or you'll find yourself here for another senior year. When are—"

"Forget the lecture Berry. Look, I'll pay you, or like barter something, but I need help, if I flunk my mother will kick my ass!"

She looked at him suspiciously.

"Fine. What are terms?"

"Um, I guess every day after school? I'll bring the homework that I owe and you can go over it with me and check my answers."

"Okay, what's in it for me?"

"Ummm, I'll make sure you won't get slushied, and I'll get Korofsky to back off."

She thought for a minute, wrinkling her brow and biting her lip.

"Deal. But you have to help me practice my numbers when I need a male lead."

He rolled his eyes.

"Fine. Tonight cool?"

"Yes, that will be satisfactory."

He watched her walk away, hoping his plan to find out what was going on worked. Especially since it was going to cost him effort in his classes.

End of chapter 3


	4. Lull

**Author's Notes**: Sorry for the delay. I am working on fixing the mistakes in the first three chapters (once I figure out how to re-upload—anyone know if I can do that without deleting comments?). Thanks to [Kully] for clarifying which day the Sabbath is on. I corrected the file, but I'm afraid to upload again. I've decided to remove the NONCON warning from this story the direction its going has no room for that particular plot development. I am working on a different story (Inspired by the GLEE Kink Meme) that I hope to post sometime soon. This will be a short chapter…but more will be coming soon- Enjoy.

She hated bringing people to her house. There was always the possibility that Daddy would be away by the time she got home. And she never knew what type of mood her father would be in. Alan never did anything out of the ordinary when other people were over. He'd never tarnish his pristine reputation. He'd smile, and joke with whoever came to visit (on the rare occasion someone actually did) and he'd punish her the moment their company safely left the neighborhood.

It had been three weeks since she'd started "tutoring" Noah. If that's what she could call it. She'd discovered that Noah was actually proficient in Calculus. She tried early on to give him hints and shortcuts; but wound up checking her already marked homework against his. She usually didn't have to make many corrections. When she suggested he just give her all of his homework to check after he'd finished it, he claimed he wouldn't get it done with all the distractions he'd have elsewhere. It had taken them trial and error to sync their schedules. They had to coordinate her ballet, his impromptu weight training and sports activities her community play rehearsals; glee. They usually met at seven and were usually finished by nine. She already made him a "catch up calendar" that he seemed to be seriously following. She couldn't help but wonder what kind of student he would be if he applied even half the effort he was now with his catch up work.

"Would you quit doing that?"

She looked up.

"Doing what?"

"Clicking your ink pen. It's distracting."

She hadn't noticed.

"Sorry."

"What are you doing anyway?"

He swiveled the desk chair to face her, his chewed pencil still nudged in the corner of his mouth.

"Must you do that?"

"Sorry, oral fixation." He grins, tucking the mangled writing utensil behind his ear.

She rolls her eyes.

"Well it's unsanitary, Noah, and it's quite annoy-"

"Annoying, yea, so is your constant ink pen clicking. Stop trying to change the subject. What are you doing? Writing in your diary? Can I see?"

"No! I'm doing homework." She lied.

"Well, let me see, I'm in a learning kind of mood."

"No…I'm not finished."

He gets up then, sitting down beside her on her bed. She tries to close her notebook before he has a chance to snatch the piece of loose leaf from her binder. She fails.

"Noah! I demand you to return my property at once!" He's holding it above his head, backing away from her bed, his height advantage infuriating her.

She stands, her arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently on plush carpet.

"Noah…"

There's an edge in her voice that makes him think twice, but he decides to ignore the warning, reading what's on the paper out loud.

"These wounds sting less than the words you use to strike down my confidence. The cooing over bruises after you've beaten me into silence contradicts the kisses you leave on this burning flesh; this aching evidence. Don't tell me that you love me…because my body won't believe it. Don't threaten me with promises, just so I can keep your secrets…"

His monotonous reading voice fades with the last line, his furrowed brow musing over what he had just read. His eyes rise to meet hers uncertainly.

"Is this a song?" He asks after a few moments of silence pass between them.

She switches her weight from her left foot to her right, uncertain if she should answer him.

"No it's a poem. And you butchered the cadence."

"…Oh. Is it, like, a metaphor? Or should I take it literally?"

"All poets are liars, Puckerman. Don't read too much into it. It's artistic license."

He raises both hands in mock surrender, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Puckerman? Is that smack talk, Berry?"

She rolls her eyes, snatching the piece of paper from him as she walks over to where his homework is.

"Are you keeping up with your current homework? This will all be pointless if you're not keeping up. Are you even going to class, Noah?"

He extends his thumb acutely from his other fingers, rotating his neck and rolling his eyes. He's motioning the repetitive opening and closing of her mouth. She playfully slaps his hands away.

"All I need is a C. I did the averages, if I just do the catch up work I'll end up with a 71."

"Such high aspirations you have, Noah."

He shrugs.

The door downstairs opens and closes, and she can hear her father's heavy footsteps. He'd known Noah would be there so he came straight to her room.

"Hello Noah, how's the homework coming along?"

"Pretty good, almost through half of it."

"Good, good." He turns to Rachel.

"Daddy's leaving tomorrow. We're going out for dinner and a show. We will be back late, Ray, so no company past ten. Daddy and I will be back by midnight."

He kisses her forehead like most fathers who love their daughters do; and leaves.

LATER

She'd fallen asleep after coaxing the ever persuasive Noah Puckerman from in front of her father's 42 inch screen plasma television set. She lay on her bed, staring at some indiscriminate patch of her ceiling and dozed to sleep…only realizing her coherence when the front door slammed with rattling force.

"Why must everyone be flirting with me, Alan? Why can't people say hello without them having an ulterior motive?"

There was a thud, a crash.

She could imagine her Daddy shaking his head dismissively in the negative.

"You were all over him Jonah! I can't believe you want me to believe you weren't flirting with the little trollop!"

Alan was slurring his words; you could hear his body bumping into immovable objects, the counter, the couch, her Daddy.

"Oh go lie down Alan. I don't feel like this tonight."

"_Fine_." Defeat laced with what she was sure was tequila.

She listened to him tumble up the stairs, tripping into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. She heard him sobbing, and soon after, the breaking of the bathroom vanity mirror…shattering onto their marble floor tiles.

It would be a long week. Especially with her Daddy gone.

She tried her best to fall asleep again.

End Chapter Four.


	5. Force Edited Version

Being the overexcited person I am, I uploaded the unedited chapter to make haste on my update. Shame on me. Here is this corrected chapter.

Jessica.

Author's Notes: Graphic scenes in this chapter, if you're not mature enough to read it—don't. This is also a Romance, so please excuse my sappiness. There are also violent depictions of abuse in this chapter. SKIP if this disturbs you. I am editing these chapters to include the insight to Jewish culture and mistakes that have been brought to my attention. I will most likely upload these chapters over after I finish this story.

Rated: M

He was suddenly hot. His sheets tangling around his torso as he settles on his back, arms outstretched behind his head. He couldn't sleep. He knew why. Berry. She invaded his private thoughts on a regular basis. It started sometime after their quick week together. She was so…magnetic. He listened to her talk just to spend more time around her. He'd go up to her at Temple and just carry out conversations about absolutely nothing just to hear her nervous giggle. Her smile, her lips; that hair…those eyes—were all so alluring without the tiniest ounce of effort. His left hand deftly trailed to the opening of his boxer shorts. He started pulling, tugging at his groin smirking at the irony of only wearing boxers to sleep.

He cleared his throat.

Rachel. Rachel Berry (*). She was the embodiment of innocent modesty; insecure confidence. So determined, he started listening to what she had to say. He found himself staring casually in her direction and he started noticing when she wasn't there…especially when he knew she should have been. He had one other crush ever, Quinn, and he'd taken the biggest risk of his life just for a shot of being with someone he was actually interested in.

Women were a sport, at first. Jackie, by the pool; she liked her dress tucked up around her waist when he took her from behind. Miss Patrice liked him to bite her every where, she loved it when he broke skin.

He is stroking the length of himself in rehearsed rhythm. He squeezes the head of his penis, rotating his wrist and falling back down to the base of his shaft. Relax, repeat, redo.

Mrs. Thompson liked to ride him. She'd grind her hips down in little circles, rising on her knees and squeezing while she slid down his erection, to the hilt. She would tease him to the brink of orgasm and stop. If he orgasms, she'd slap him. They'd start again. Mrs. Karofsky liked to be pampered. She was a tiny woman in a house full of men. They never just fucked; he'd take his time with her.

He was rounding his orgasm, his train of thought returning to course. He slowed his expert hand to a steady stroke, light—teasing.

When Quinn called him that night, he almost talked himself out of it. It was code. Never mess with a Bro's girl—period. He was head over heels for Quinn since fourth grade. She was so sincere then. He liked to make her laugh and spend time with her. Then they went to junior high. He was the badass, the rebel. She was the goodie-too-shoes; the cheerleader. They never crossed paths. Finn didn't even know that he'd liked her when they got to high school. So when she called him that night drunk, he hoped she remembered what they used to be like. Back when he didn't have a reputation to uphold. He thought it would be special. It was a mistake.

He stops his ministrations, resting his palm on the flat of his abdomen.

She made him feel so guilty afterward, and things went the way they always did in his life. He was angry, he was hurt. And he went back to playing games and meaningless sex, because love was for pussies, _**and he was no**__**pussy**__. _ And then, Rachel came. She was always lifting him up when he felt so…lost. People assumed so much of him, and never did they assume he could do something positive with his life, that he loved his family, and that he cared about the direction his life was taking. Rachel kept trying. She was persistent; relentless. She always looked at him like she knew what he was going through. That's when he started respecting her. He started looking out for her. She did so much for him. And she didn't even know it. So he kept up appearances. Stealing glances in her direction and hiding glimpses of key moments in his memory for later. He's been so enveloped in her world lately. It was driving him crazy. He smelled her scent when he sat on her bed. He always remembered the make out session they had there. On her bed, he sat her on the computer desk and stood between her legs, kissing her—those lips; she never let him left her shirt, though.

His hand suddenly returns to his erection, he spits, stroking it rigidly with the pads of his curled palms. He hadn't had sex in almost two months. He pinched his right nipple, rolling the bud between his fingertips, keeping rhythm, filling his bedroom with the sounds of his hand pounding moist flesh.

He had thought about her that way for a long time. She was so…untouched, it made him hot. He wanted to explore her sexuality with her. He knew she'd be so…intense. It's not the only thoughts he's had of her. He thought about cuddling up next to her and falling asleep in the side of her neck, his arm outstretched acutely under her head for support. He thought about the conversations they'd have after sex, waking up next to her in the morning. _**He was not a pussy**_-

He clears his thoughts.

He always wanted to taste her. He didn't do that for just any girl…but he knew he'd enjoy it if she let him.

He licks his lips.

His hand is moving quickly. He uncurls his palm, pinpointing the middle of his shaft with his thumb and on the opposite side, his forefinger and pointer. He applies pressure at the tip, and furiously strokes to the bottom of his shaft. He's so close. He needs release—he tenses, closing his eyes tight as he pictures her mouth around his girth…swallowing him to the balls—and he orgasms; he tries to muffle the name that escapes as wipes away his seamen with his boxer shorts.

He sleeps.

**TOMORROW**

She was on edge. Alan had been so…nice lately that it was making her nervous that he would lash out on her at any moment. Daddy had been gone for three days. They'd been in the house all day together, it was Saturday. He dropped her off to school on Thursday morning, took her to a play Friday night and Saturday he treated her to breakfast. It was so normal, that she was sure something bad would happen soon. Noah came over at seven that night, claiming he had nothing better to do on a weekend, and started his homework at the dining room table. They ordered dinner that night, setting up pizza boxes and her vegetarian wrap on the opposite end of Noah's homework. She was terrified when Alan had invited him to stay over to eat, and she was even more uneasy than she had been.

"So, Noah, how does this catch up assignment work?"

Noah was trying hard to swallow his pizza. He pushed the bulk of it to one side to speak.

"Well, my teacher collects all the homework weekly. If you choose to get it marked and fix the problems that you got wrong, you'll get a half point for each whole point-you know, for effort. If you want to, you know, slack off and just turn it all in at the end of the quarter, she'll grade it as a packet but you'll get all the points deducted without getting a chance to correct them. And you got to show like all the work in the problem."

Alan nodded. Rachel chewed her wrap slowly, too wrapped up in her thoughts to really pay attention.

"Do most of the kids cheat?"

"Not really, most of the kids in the class don't do the homework early. The other ones just drop it in her mailbox, and she hands it back with the weekly test. So you really don't know who does the homework."

"I see. So how do you know Rachel does her homework?"

Noah smirked

"Who doesn't know Rachel does her homework early? She always talks about being prepared and all that."

Noah swallowed. Alan laughed, snapping Rachel out of her revere. She hadn't heard him laugh in a long time. She swallowed. The phone rang.

"Answer that, Ray."

She got up, picking the phone up and greeting whoever it was on the other line.

"Hello, Berry residence."

"Yes, is Alan in?"

"He is, may I ask who's speaking?"

"Tabitha Rhodes, I'm his gay conversion counselor."

"Oh. Hold please."

She took the wireless handset to her father.

"It's Tabitha, your conversion counselor?"

She furrowed her brow. Alan stared at the phone for what seemed like and hour. He stood, dried his hands, and abruptly snatched the phone from her, walking to the kitchen and speaking in hushed tones.

Noah stood then, wiping the grease from his pizza on the back of his hand. It was getting late. She was sure he felt the tension.

"Hey, I'm going to get going. Tomorrow, same time?"

She nodded her head, following him to the door after he'd gathered his homework. She watched him get in his truck, start the ignition, and pull out of the driveway. She locked the door, and went to clear off the table.

**NOAH**.

He drove around her neighborhood three times, trying to decide if he should call her cell phone. Was that the reason she was so quiet all the time now? Her dads must have been fighting a lot. That would explain it. It made sense that she wanted to get away, going to Temple when she had no where else to go. It was the reason he was there. He was tired of his mother being so sad, working so much. He went to Temple when he needed to think; when he needed to run away from her crying. Maybe that was it. She just needed someone to talk to.

He'd heard of gay conversion counselors. They zapped your brain with electrodes and showed you pictures of naked ladies so you'd be straight. Maybe her pops didn't want to be gay anymore. He could understand needing women. Maybe Rachel was just bummed that she'd have to be another kid in a single parent household. Her dads were an abnormal family-being gay and all- but they were a two parent household, an anomaly in itself.

He was only fifteen minutes away. But it was getting late. He pulled over and texted her. He waited impatiently for her reply

**RACHEL**.

She caught him whispering into the receiver about the audacity of calling his home number. He was irate. He hadn't noticed her in the kitchen until she was on her way out, her back turned to him.

"Rachel." She turned around, stone faced and quiet, waiting for words that she was sure would follow.

"…This is none of your business."

She nodded her head.

"I have no stake in this _**marriage**_." He fingered imaginary quotation marks around the last word.

He moved closer to her.

"I am going to move on with my life and I will have nothing. I gave up everything I had and every cent I've ever earned to this family. And I will not move on with my life with nothing, when I've worked so hard for so long to keep up these appearances."

He was inches away.

"So you're leaving Daddy?" Her voice was quiet, vulnerable.

"Are you judging _**me**_? Your _**Daddy**_ left a long time ago. Your _**Daddy**_ can do no wrong, can he? Because your _**Daddy**_ is _**sooo**_ perfect. You're _**Daddy**_ didn't raise you, child—_**I **_did- while you're _**Daddy**_ was off being a faggot!"

She slapped him. Before she could react and before she could apologize, the back of his hand met with her cheek and she recoiled, falling on elbows and heels as she scurried on the floor, backwards, toward the kitchen door.

He followed.

"Your _**Daddy**_, me—we don't make a family! Rachel, we **_can__'t _**make a family! I've never wanted this family. We were happy before you happened; we were perfectly fine before he wanted you!"

He kicked her. Hard.

"Do you know how it feels to know that you aren't good enough? To know that being gay won't hold you together? Do you know how it feels to waste your entire life on someone else? I'm not going to be gay anymore, Ray, you can have your _**Daddy**_."

The last word slipped off the tip of his tongue like venom. She felt him spit over her, stepping over her to grab her by her hair. He gripped it in knot, tugging her toward the steps, her hands coming to wrap around his wrists; she didn't want him to pull her hair out. She pushed up stairs as he wretched her up the staircase, her thigh rubbing the carpet as he dragged her upward, her hip, she was sure, darkening in color.

They made it to the top of the landing that way, and he gripped her up by her elbow, dragging her toward her bedroom. He pulled off her shirt, he was scratching at her sides, his fingernails digging like claws into her ribcage. He pushed her hands above her head, slapping her when she began thrashing from side to side. Her lip was bleeding. All she heard next was a belt buckle; a zipper.

"I was never your father, and I am not gay."

**NOAH**

He pulled up to her block twenty minutes later, finally deciding to make sure she was okay since his gut wouldn't leave him alone. He parked a few houses down and walked up to her door. Her lights were still on. It was only eleven, he thought. He backed into her driveway, looking for any shadows against her lit bedroom window. At first there were none.

And soon he saw flailing arms and bulky silhouettes. Then he heard it; a slap. He ran up to the front door, pushing against it without it budging. He turned the knob, hoping she hadn't locked it when he left. She did. He ran to the backyard, happy when the door opened without force.

He ran upstairs three steps at a time, arriving at her open bedroom door. He was on top of her, one of his dark hands cupping her mouth, muffling her sobs. The other held her wrists over her head, easily twisted in his massive palms.

His pants around his knees.

Noah lunged, snatching him away from her in fluid motion. Pummeling him as hard as he possibly could, punching so hard that his head began to bob against the thick of the floor. So consistent that Alan didn't have time to protect his soft spots; broken nose, split lip—black eye. He didn't stop. Someone was shaking his shoulders.

"Noah! He's unconscious. Noah stop!"

He turned to look at her. Her bruised lip, her skirt twisted backwards; her missing shirt and purple skin. He stood and cupped her swollen cheeks.

"Did he? Are you? Rachel?"

She shook her head no. He pulled off his short sleeved button up, wrapping it around her and buttoning it up to the top, her arms still cradling her bruised rib cage.

"Let's call he cops."

End of Chapter.


	6. Pushing Foward

**Author's Notes**: Sorry for the long delay. I started handwriting this chapter and found that typing it all up was a bore. Here's the new chapter. Mentions of Funk toward the end and it will hint at certain events of the last few episodes, but may play out a little differently. Please read and review. I am already working on the following chapters, and the final chapter will be announced in the author's notes. Look out for my next story (Puckleberry) titled "A Lesson in Trust", coming soon after the conclusion of this story. Enjoy.

Oh: NRNRNRNRNRNRNRNR Is supposed to be a line break, but won't show the underscores and asterisks online.-

They took his statement as soon as Rachel was admitted to X-Ray. He recounted what happened, admitting proudly to beating Rachel's father to pulp. The officer smirked at him, quickly regaining the stone faced composure he'd had through most of the recollection. He explained that Mr. Berry could actually file assault charges—but quickly dismissed his ability to actually do so anytime soon. They ended the interview, and decided to go back to Rachel's room. She'd been gone for close to forty minutes, and he assumed that she too was giving her statement to the police. He got up, stretching his long limbs and dragging his feet languidly to the CVS across the street, hoping that a teddy bear would make Rachel feel better (girls liked that kind of stuff he was sure). He searched the store for a get well star or balloon and found none. He was about to leave empty handed when he saw something he'd hope she would like. He paid for it, hoping she would be in her room when he returned. She was, sitting upright in the hospital bed, three pillows tucked behind her back, staring blankly at the public access musical production on the mounted television set.

"Hey…" He said, sitting in the bedside recliner, putting the frilly yellow gift bag on the bed beside her.

"What's that?"

"Why don't you open it, Sherlock?"

She rolled her eyes, pulling the crescent moon shaped stuffed toy out from the bag, pulling on the star hanging from its coned shaped night cap. She smiled.

"I couldn't get you a star so I got you the moon instead," he told her, realizing after he'd said it how sentimental it had come across.

"And if you tell anyone how sappy I've been to you, I can press a little button and it'll self destruct." She chuckled then, a hearty healthy chuckle that he couldn't help but appreciate.

"What did your Dad say?" She sobered at his inquiry.

"He's on his way, he caught the redeye and he will be back tomorrow morning."

"How are your ribs?" He nodded to the space on her nightgown above the belly button, below her collarbone.

"The doctor said it's just bruised, and not to over exert myself. I can't leave here until Daddy can sign the discharge papers. "

"Maybe I can call my mom?"

"It's awfully late, Noah, I'll be okay here."

"Well I'll stay too." He said, pulling the lever on his recliner, and stealing the jello off Rachel's food tray. She didn't protest. They stayed quiet for a while, switching between the seven channels the hospital cable provided, settling on cartoons. She broke the silence first.

"Thank you Noah. " He shook his head in acknowledgement, wondering if she was ready to talk or cry or all those other things the emotional creatures did after trauma. She didn't. She fiddled with the star on the moon's hat. He turned to her sharply—

"You know you have to name it." She laughed, closing her eyes and contemplating choices. She bit her lip.

"What's your middle name?"

"Nope Berry, can't do that, it's a girl moon. "

"How do you know?" He shrugged.

"She has long eyelashes and yellow skin." 

She leaned her head back shaking her head dismissively.

"He also has on a blue sleeping cap. He could be a boy moon." She refuted.

"Nope it's a girl. I'm sure and besides, all sleeping caps are light blue; it's—like—a rule or something." She was grinning now.

"Maybe it's just a really pretty boy moon?"

"Nope it's a girl moon, Berry, so name her." She sat back, tilting her head toward him,

"Luna. Luna M. Puckerman." He rolled his eyes at her, a small smirk still tugging at his lips.

"Why does she have my last name?"

"Because you gave her to me."

"Fine. Will you cuddle up with Luna every night when you go to bed?"

"Maybe." She quipped.

"Good. Make sure to make sure she's got a good view, want to put that camera to good use."

"Noah!" She slapped his arm playfully.

They settled back into the cartoon they were watching, Rachel's hand snaking with his as she drifted off to sleep on her side, Luna snuggly tucked beneath her chin. He pulled out his cell phone, ignoring the seven missed calls he had, and snapped a picture of the scene He slept soon after.

NRNRNRNRNRNRNRNR

He woke up the following morning to the sounds of the room door clicking open. Rachel's Dad barged in, jostling Rachel awake as he sat beside her, pulling her up into a tight hug. She let go of Noah's hand then, letting her Daddy rock her gently, patting her semi flattened bed hair. He pulled away from her, surveying her body,

"Starshine, why didn't you say anything?" Rachel looked away, shaking her head from side to side.

"I didn't want you to worry…I didn't want to ruin things."

He pulled her toward him again, rocking her like the action alone would sooth all of her bruises. Noah stood then, making his way to the door before the other Mr. Berry stopped him.

"Noah, may I have a moment?" He agreed and watched as Mr. Berry kissed Rachel's forehead and lead him into the corridor. They stood there, Noah uncomfortably tucking his sweaty fists into his pockets. Mr. Berry pulled him into a hug then, patting him generously on his back.

"I have no words of gratitude that can describe my immense appreciation."

He nodded, rubbing the crook of his neck as he stared at the male version of Rachel Berry.

"If there is ever anything you need, son, you need not hesitate to ask." He nodded again.

"Now, do you know how long any of this has been going on?"

"No, sir," he said honestly, "I don't think she's ready to talk."

"I see…well Noah, Alan is going to jail until his court date. I saw his face, and I must say, I never condone violence, but thank you. He hurt my baby and you hurt him." Jonah Berry straightened his stature, squaring his rounded, heavy shoulders and clearing his throat. "Will you be joining us today, or are you heading home?"

He thought for a moment, rubbing his hands together.

"My mom's probably wigging out; I haven't been home since yesterday. Do you mind if I say bye to Rachel?" Mr. Berry nodded and offered his hand for him to renter the room. Rachel had already changed out of the hospital gown, opting to wear the shirt he'd put over her the night before.

"Hey Berry, I'm going to head home, just wanted to say bye. If you need me, just call."

She shook her head.

"Is it okay if I call even if I don't need anything, you know, to talk?"

"Yea Berry, that's cool too." He paused not knowing if a hug was appropriate. He squeezed her hand instead, heading home soon after…he even thought about doing some homework.

NRNRNRNRNRNRNRNR

"Noah Puckerman where have you been?"

"Some stuff happened with Rachel, Ma, I had to help."

His mother's demeanor changed instantly.

"Rachel Berry? How is she? And her Dad?"

"Lot's of stuff, Ma, I'll tell you after my nap."

He kissed his mother, going upstairs and stretching out on his bed. He intended to shower, but wound up falling asleep from sheer exhaustion. He woke around five, his little sister jumping on his bed to get him for dinner. He took his normal place in front of the television set, devouring the hamburgers his mother put in front of him. They ate in silence until his mother sent his sister to do her homework.

"Barbra Stein called. She said your name came up on a police report she was filing at the station today. She told me she saw your name but couldn't tell me why you were on it. What's going on now, Noah?"

"Ma, it's not like that-"

"Here I am, trying to raise a good honest boy by myself and he just keeps getting into so much trouble!" She threw her hands up above her head.

"I work my ass off day in and day out only to find out that my son is out committing arson, or my son is out getting girls pregnant, or my son is out there—"

"MA!" He interrupted.

She turned to him then, her arms crossed in front of her as she tapped her foot impatiently. She quirked her brow.

"Well, Noah, what is it this time?" 

"It's not really my business to tell."

His mother opened her arms, palms up, still waiting. He grunted, shaking his head, his tongue seemingly too big for his mouth, his eyes shifting away from her as he crossed his arms in front of himself.

"Rachel got hurt. I had to go back to her house for something and went to the hospital with her. I had to give a statement."

His mother sat down next to him on the couch, her hands bunched at the top of her chest, clenched under her chin. She unfolded his arms and rubbed his back.

"Is she okay?"

"She'll be alright. Can I go shower now?"

His mother hesitated. Finally she shook her head and moved for him to go past her.

NRNRNRNRNRNRNRNR

Her day had been uneventful. Her Daddy tried twice to coax answers from her, but she wasn't ready to talk. The shock had yet to clear. She wanted to think about other things. He'd already given her permission to miss school, and reassured her that he'd be in Lima for at least a month without interruption. She was happy about that, at least. They spent the day lazing around the house, watching musicals and eating take out for dinner. By the time eight o'clock rolled around, she was thinking about where Noah was. He'd been so nice to her lately. Tutoring him filled her schedule, and they always winded up talking about some odd theory he had about the origins of the video games he played or the diverse breeds of dinosaurs there would have been had they not gone extinct. She was often slightly amused. They rarely talked about serious things, taking the carefree time they had everyday in her bedroom and turning it into the reprieve from her normal everyday issues.

She realized in hindsight that he always asked her if she was alright. And she'd shake her head and tell him a lie about which solo she'd been shot down for or some upset in her life that was insignificant enough to not be mentioned again. He always settled that she told him the truth, and he'd swivel around in her chair and finish the homework he was working on. She started to think about what would have happened had he not come back. She honestly didn't know why he came back period. She didn't want to think about the gravity of the what if's. She sniffed his shirt. She didn't know why she kept it on. The sleeves came below her elbows; it smelled like Axe body spray and Noah's deodorant. She expected him to ask for it back, she was secretly happy he didn't, she needed the wool to pull over her eyes for a bit.

"Why don't you ask him over Rachel?"

Her Daddy snapped her out of her trance.

"Who?" She asked, trying to pretend he hadn't caught her in her thoughts.

"Noah Puckerman. You've been sniffing that shirt since you got home. Tell him to come over, he can even stay late." Her Daddy beamed. She called him then.

"Sup Berry."

"Hi, Noah. I was wondering if you'd like to come over and maybe watch television, or play board games."

"Just got out of the shower. I'll come hang."

"Okay, I await your arrival."

"Cool. You got snacks?"

"I can arrange that, yes."

"K. Bye."

NRNRNRNRNRNRNRNR

She'd sat out cookies, pretzels and the disgusting cheese puffs her Daddy insisted on stocking in the pantry. She put out vegetable dip and carrots for herself and waited for Noah to ring her doorbell. He knocked instead, and Rachel went over to the door, straightening her pale yellow pajama pants before opening it. He was leaning on the outer door frame, a straw behind each ear, and two white Styrofoam cups in his hands. He shoved one into her hand and headed for the couch. He gave her the straw when she sat, opening his cup and swallowing the cold creamy mixture in gulps.

"Strawberry banana." He mumbled after he shook off his brain freeze. She poked the straw into the container, sipping on her own and nodding her head in thanks.

"Is that my shirt?" He said, as he poked his own straw through the top.

She stopped drinking her smoothie, putting the cup down and pulling the open shirt aside, a slew of words barreling out of her mouth.

"I'm sorry, if you want it back I could wash it and return it, I didn't think you'd mind."

He stopped her as she began tugging her arms out of the shirt.

"Berry, calm down. It's cool. You look like a midget."

She smiled.

"I do not."

"Whatever Shorty."

He plopped back down on the couch, grabbing a fistful of cheese puffs from the big bowl on the coffee table. He suggestively patted the couch with his free hand. She sat.

"So what do you want to do, it's still early."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Want to sing?"

She shook her head then.

"My throat's still resting."

He nodded, grabbing the remote and switching through the channels, settling on the Office as he swiped his hands free of crumbs.

"You like this show?"

"Yea, Pam's hot."

She rolled her eyes.

"I thought she was supposed to be the average girl on the show. I thought the blonde would be the prettiest."

"Nah. That's Angela. She's got a stick up her ass. Pam's hot because she's real. Like she doesn't know she's hot, but she kinda is with her girly shirts and no makeup. Jim's totally in love with her and he wanted her even when they were just friends."

"Oh…" She sipped her smoothie again, leaning back and settling into her seat.

"So you don't watch tv?"

"Some shows I watch. Mostly reality shows like American Idol and So You Think You Can Dance. I TiVo One Tree Hill, and Gossip Girl. I never have time to watch them when they come on, so I watch them when I can plan them in my schedule."

He smirked.

"You plan to watch shows? So you don't watch regular stuff like Family Guy or Robot Chicken."

"Well I usually have lessons or shows of my own, and I am also active in Glee Club, Speech Club, Mock United Nations Club, Renaissance Club, Muslim Students Club and Black Students Union and when I get home I have homework so I'm always busy."

"Muslim Students Club?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Yes, I like to expand and diversify the company I keep. And diversity is a must if I want to get into Julliard. And besides, those shows are vulgar and random."

"But they're funny, Babe. That's all that matters. So is The Office. "

"Well, The Office seems like a fun show. I just never have time to watch it. I know the background though."

"So how can you know the background, but not know Pam is hot?"

She stared at the screen.

"So you're saying that her demeanor and they way she dresses, even if it is modest and quaint, is actually appealing."

"Yup. You know. Like she doesn't even know she's hot, so she's not a bitch. And on top of it all she likes to do fun stuff like pull pranks on Dwight and she backs Michael up even when he knows he should be put out to dry. Like her badassness is subtle, and it makes her hot—and the way she dresses just leaves all the more to the imagination. "

"I see."

"Yup." He finishes his smoothie. She sips hers.

He looked over at her then, comparing her to what he'd just said. She was sitting in his plaid button up, her pajama bottoms, blue sweat socks and a tank top. Her hair was pulled back away from her face, and her slightly bruised lip was still plump and pink. She was modest- or whatever—and he knew she was hot. He wouldn't have dated her otherwise. Her kiddy clothes magnified her lack of fashion sense, but the skirts did her body justice. Over the last few weeks they spent time together, he'd noticed on more than one occasion when he thought that she was pretty. And then she'd mention Finn, and he'd pretend like his homework needed his undivided attention.

They sat in silence then, laughing as Dwight and Angela signed their contract to make babies.

"Want to go out, Berry?"

"Okay where?"

He shrugged.

"Well I can't drive my car after nine. So, let me go tell Daddy I'll be with you and I'll change."

He watched her leave then, taking the bowls of snacks into the kitchen and finally deciding that the refrigerator would be the best place for open containers. He made his way back to her living room, looking over the pictures that littered every open wall of her house. Beauty pageants and dance competitions. She held a first place trophy in a lot of them. She had missing teeth and pigtails in some photos, chestnut curls and tiaras in another. There were a few debate team pictures and the others she held roses in her arms center stage. He frowned at the family pictures as she headed back down the steps, loose fitting sweatpants and sneakers on.

"Where'd you get those from?"

"Contrary to popular belief I do wear pants, Noah. There is such a thing as winter."

He shrugged.

She grabbed her cell phone as they made their way to his truck. He helped her in and slid in after her, and began to drive.

"So where are we going?"

"Wherever we end up."

She stayed quiet for the ride, every so often bringing the collar of his shirt to her nose.

NRNRNRNRNRNRNRNR

"Why do you wear pants when you're in a funk?"

"I don't know. I love skirts but they make me feel vulnerable sometimes. So when I feel like I'm unprotected, I cover up and throw on jeans."

"Your turn."

He watched as she closed her eyes, squeezing them tight and trying not to bite her bottom lip. She smiled brazenly when she opened them again.

"What's your middle name?"

He rubbed his face, tugging downward as he shook his head from side to side.

"Malachi."

"Awe Noah—"

He cut her off before she could continue.

"When you came here that night, and I asked you what was wrong, were you upset because your Dad hit you?"

She was quiet. She stared around the Temple then, sitting on next to him on the traditional woman's side of the building.

"Yes."

It was simple. He wasn't going to push, and he waited for her to come up with her next question.

"Why do you think the genders still separate when they come in here?"

He shrugged.

"Well, this is Lima. People like the routine. They like having something familiar so they don't have to play new roles and play these little games. My mom is only Jewish when she wants to improve my character, so it's like people try to keep up appearances. This is the only Temple for miles from here. It was an Orthodox church when they started it, so I guess some things just stay the same for the hell of it."

"It's your turn, Noah."

"Are you still in love with Finn?"

She sighed. A heavy, breathy, deep sigh. He twisted in the pew, turning to face her as she stared ahead of her.

"No. I only chase him because I need a goal in every facet of my life. After Jesse I just realized that I fall in love with what people are perceived to be. Jesse is so self absorbed. Every compliment he makes is backed up by a compliment more superior to himself. But he was the leading man, and so is Finn. I'm starting to shatter my fantasies one by one, I guess."

"Your turn."

"Are you still in love with Quinn?"

"No fair you can't ask the same question back!"

"Okay, answer and I'll ask another one."

He sighed himself.

"No. I never was. She was a trophy. I loved my baby though. It's still your turn, Berry."

"Ummmm."

"What does your hair look like when you grow it out?"

"Shaggy, curly, wavy."

"I don't have anymore questions." Noah flat out decided. "These games usually head toward the sexual side after you run out of questions." He waggled his eyes suggestively, leering at her mockingly. She just rolled her eyes.

"Do you think you're going to pass math?"

"I hope so. I don't feel like another year of it. I can fill that space with a fun elective—like Woodshop."

She laughed, and they sat in silence together. Trying not to speak the questions that floated around them like thick air.

NRNRNRNRNRNRNRNR

She'd returned to school a few days later, just in time for Glee. Noah brought her homework to her, and she was not shocked to hear that everyone at McKinely High had known about her trip to the hospital the previous weekend. They were greeted later by Jesse, and the entire crew from Vocal Adrenaline. They performed their funk number and Rachel was nervous as they walked out of the auditorium and headed for the Glee room. The toilet paper draped around the room reminded her of the funk that she was in.

She never expected the egging that she'd receive later…

End of Chapter six.


	7. Chapter 7

The first time he'd spent the night was the night they were studying for finals. Her Daddy had come into her bedroom with mugs of hot coffee, and they graciously accepted them, turning back to the homework Noah had finished throughout the semester. They studied and talked for most of the night, cramming for the last test of the school year, the buzz of Regionals clouding their overstuffed brains.

Sometime during their cram session Noah had lay across the bottom of her bed, his long legs bent over the edge. She let him sleep, noting that she would wake him later, knowing that his mother wouldn't mind him staying late to do homework. In the midst of her own late night studying, she too fell asleep, half sitting up with books spread about her.

She heard her father open her door, shaking Noah at the bottom of the bed and telling him to sleep on the cot they had in the closet for visitors who they rarely had stay over. She sat up groggily, watching them set the cot up next to her own bed, lining it with sheets and blankets before her Daddy kissed her goodnight and left—the door left slightly ajar.

The next time Noah stayed over was the day after Beth was born. They were both down because they'd lost at Regionals, even though they found out that Glee would live to see another year. He came to her house unannounced, greeting her father at the door before running up the stairs as he usually did. He was sad, trying his best not to let on that he wanted to cry. She remembered hugging him to her chest, rocking him to sleep in her arms, not realizing the tears that stained her shirt until she lay down with him, falling asleep with his head resting on her stomach. Her Daddy probably came to wake them, but Noah was there the next day, eating breakfast with her Daddy like it was the most normal thing in the world.

This night he stayed over because it was the day before Alan's preliminary hearing. He'd come to her with a bag of Jesse St. James' hair in a little plastic bag. He'd promise not to assault the boy after the egging incident, but cleverly informed her that night that he'd gotten ample revenge by pulling him from the numerous summer shows he would have starred in. They had decided that night to celebrate Noah's passing math grade by playing some random first person shooter game that Noah had promised she would enjoy. Noah had gotten her into the habit of bringing his gaming system to her house, and that night they stayed up late to play on the big screen in her living room, falling asleep tangled in the blanket that usually adorned the back of her couch. Her Daddy didn't wake them up that night either.

She woke up the next morning; the sun streaming into the living room in slits threw the open venetian blinds, kissing her face with warmth. She got up, noticing that Noah wasn't next to her, finding him in slacks and a blue oxford talking to her Daddy in the kitchen.

"We didn't want to wake you up until it was time to get ready. Are you sure you want to do this, sweetheart? You don't have to be there for this."

She shrugged. She hadn't been anticipating the hearing, her testimony was in the police report they gave, and as she understood it, Alan already confessed to much of the past abuse. She didn't want to go—but she also didn't want to be home alone.

"If Noah can stay I'll stay home."

Her Dad looked to him, a smile quirking his worn face.

"Noah's always welcome. I'll bring you back details of his sentencing."

He kissed her on her forehead, walking past them to grab his suit jacket. They waited for him to leave before heading back to the living room, Noah loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves.

"I wish you would've said something sooner, I wouldn't have brought the clown suit. How ya holding up?"

She hated when he asked her that question. She'd been fine since the whole debacle, her father pressuring her to go to counseling, Noah asking if she was alright all the time. She honestly just felt better that it was over. Given she did feel guilty about breaking up her little home, she felt better knowing that she didn't have to be afraid to be there anymore.

"I'm fine, I just want it all to be over."

Noah nodded. They'd been spending a large amount of their time together, never bothering to question why they felt so at ease around each other. She had to explain countless times to her father that they were just friends, especially after the sex talk he'd been trying to have with her lately.

She would love to admit that she wouldn't mind a relationship with him; she still had the shirt he'd given her, buttoned up around a pillow on her bed for when he wasn't there. She enjoyed their late night office marathons or their trips to the lake when it got hot. She knew better than to voice her opinions of their friendship—she didn't want to chase him away with all of her pesky emotions.

They lounged on the couch for most of the morning, her Daddy coming home with somber news. He handed her a letter, hugged her, and simply apologized before going to sit at the kitchen tabled.

"Rachel. Alan's being sent to a rehabilitation center for his … illness. If he completes the eight week program, he may be released on probation. I'm sorry.

A/N: I had to get back into the groove for this story. This is a filler chapter, I will catch up with the events of Alan's sentencing and Rachel's and Noah's relationship in the next chapter.


End file.
